the name's greed (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nestingdevil) wrote2014-11-10 09:21 pm
nestingdevil) wrote2014-11-10 09:21 pm
(no subject)
WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, avaricious. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 012.07.333.07 *** avaricious has joined 018.07.154.55 <avaricious> ithsihoitiwrks ? <BANNED USER> SCREENED MESSAGE. UNSCREEN? Y/N -- <avaricious>thdvllsnst <avaricious> vdndrere | ||||
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0.0.0.0 ♦ "MASON" | Heather
TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.
0.0.0.0 ♦ STOCKE
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0.0.0.0 ♦ AOBA
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0.0.0.0 ♦ "JUSTINE"
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0.0.0.0 ♦ KILLUA
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0.0.0.0 ♦ ZOLF J. KIMBLEY
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0.0.0.0 ♦ EDWARD ELRIC
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0.0.0.0 ♦ "XANDER" | SANDRATH
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< anotherface > has posted an audio message. If you wish to listen, type LISTEN1.
Greed. I like you very much. I was... AM very charmed by you. Very charmed. Your fire is one worth bowing this lowly head to. Yes, yes, that is correct. And that is why I am showing as much respect as I can to you. For thinking about Kira, for allowing me to meet you when I was elsewhere with my thoughts...
I want to kill Dante. I want to kill Redgrave. This is no desire to start war with you and yours. No... that feast would not fill either of our bellies. Not this. So I tell you and ask you to give him to me. He will be given a fair fight... he will.. because he is yours I ask you first.
As is right, as is fair. That is how humans should act, right? [ And then he starts to laugh. His laughter carries on and on obviously driven to tears as he cannot quite turn off the feed before he realizes he has laughed for too long. ]
<avaricious> 1/2
[It takes a while for him to respond: minutes, an hour. When the message does come through though, there's a sharp buzz of static. A weighted kind of silence holds in response: as if the air around it is heavy, thick. Enough that it almost strangles the receiver - like that of paired hands slowly choking the life out of an offending throat.]
[Did he hear that right?]
Is that so. [Greed's voice slides on deadly pitch. Sarcastic, light, but undeniably sharp. Despite the lack of an image, it isn't that hard to picture: the curl of a lip drawn back, the show of teeth back-lit in a tint of sulfur. A lonely fire huffs from beyond the feed and as its flames condense, the sound turns biting and brittle. Like that of a meal left to char in the bottom of an unattended pan.]
[No, he did hear that right, didn't he.]
[A curbed laugh barks at the back of his throat. The furnace at the backside of the room gives a healthy rumble, then. It buckles on the air of the recording - the nuts, nails, and bolts practically aching to break free. Greed glides the flat of his foot across the floor and with a hollow thud, his heel etches into the surface.] Just who do you think you're talking to? Or did you forget already?
[As he talks, the fans inside the laptop begin to whine. They're working overtime, it seems: the strain of both heat and smog enough to make the recording skip a beat. When it returns, the devil's mouth is all-too-close to the receiver.] He's one of mine, friend. Workers, henchmen - they're my possessions. Killing one of them is stealing from me - [A rancid snap rattles along the feed. Whatever's happening on the other side, it tells of nothing good. The fire's louder, his baritone deeper. Greed's nails suddenly twist along the lid to the laptop and as the ends of them threaten against plastic, the recording picks up the pieces: one snap, one crack, and - ]
- and nobody takes what's mine.
<avaricious> 2/2
So - [A sigh of a smoke wisps on his tongue. Taunting, light. Greed's jaw clamps closed with a bone-brittle click, abruptly cutting it off.]
- what'll it be?
no subject
[ Mitsuhide returns after spending some time with Liquid. He did his best to hold onto the feelings of anger. Because that is how mad he was at Dante, he normally allows such feelings to dip -- to be drowned -- in the miasma that is his insanity. But he held onto it for days and days. As he recovered from the fight, he looked at his body and renewed in his resolve to "stay angry." He held that fury in his hands. Cupping it, even as it spilled and slipped through his fingers, he could only watch it slowly ebb until his usual smile dances across his lips. Until he can no longer feel that has lead him to this point.
And now it is gone but the purpose isn't.
His voice no longer has a higher-pitch. The mania slowed down to where he speaks in his usual voice. He bobs his head, wobbling in the chair he sits on. The wood beneath squeaks and groans each time he puts more weight on one side of the seat. Mitsuhide giggles first. A surprisingly friendly sort of sound -- lilting with a calmer madness. ] I'm overjoyed that you still consider us friends. Normally, normally... humans would think that this is a means to break away, right?
[ With some of the words, he sounds far away -- his head tips back as he looks up toward the ceiling but the mic still picks up what he says, just softer, softer. The sound of the chair rattling as his body convulses with his laughter. ] It's only if I kill him that I'm stealing, right? Wanting and being able to... that's two different things. He wouldn't fight me. He wouldn't kill me. It wasn't fair. I could still fight, Greed.
[ The words hold little venom. It is more like relaying the events to another than spitting them in the demon's face. His head lulls from side-to-side on his shoulders as he breaks up what he says with softer giggles. Muffled as he presses his chin against his chest. ] I only wish to continue what he would not allow me to continue. But ... you would still take it as me attempting to steal from you?
That's not good... that isn't... I don't like to give people such feelings... I would rather fill your mouth with blood and we can both laugh with one another as our pieces are falling apart. [ How odd it is to say so much with little malice twisting and warping the words. One can see the warm smile dancing freely, wildly. The small tilt of the head as he would slouch low so that he could look up at Greed if they were standing before one another. A slight parting of his lips as he breathes out a happy sigh. Like a confession of love. Because this is his confession of love. ]
If I kill you first, can I have Dante?
no subject
You've got it all wrong. [Through the recording, an edging sneer fingers along the receiver. It's sharp and biting: like that of a grin teasing on the upper half of a tensely-pulled lip. Circumstances aside, that usual nonchalance of his still hangs on. It bakes in the back of his jaws in a fever; forcing red-hot to broil on the feed's edge in a soft, muted haze. The Sin hooks the edge of an ashtray with his claw.]
[Tnk.] Humans maybe, but I was never one to begin with. [Porcelain yelps gingerly on the recording: the subtle scrape like that of a nail tuning the side of an empty glass. He's only had the pleasure of meeting Mitsuhide once and while the encounter had raised more questions than answers, his madman threats had gone to the back-burner. Haphazardly forgotten and buried.]
[Until now, that is.] What's your point? [A gaseous note wheezes through the Sin's jaws and with a resounding clack, he leers into the recording.] Sorry, that's not how it works. Even you should know that.
[On the other side, Greed tips his head. There are sounds all around him: the light pat of steel on steel, the coo of a furnace just aching for a taste. A scathing rumble breaks it all up and as the other's would-be confession sighs through the receiver, the devil answers it with nothing short of a booming, thunderous bark. It coughs just out of view: an eruption of soot fingering at the ceiling to take it for all that it's worth.] Ha - ! Is that what this is all about?
[The legs of a chair skitter on the line. They skip along the floor, dragging with them a length of soot to sigh dryly into the recording. Greed lifts himself from his seat and with a groan of plastic, he pushes the lid to the laptop just a bit wider.] Guess there's no choice, is there? [While they aren't face to face, it isn't so hard to imagine: the heavy lid of his eyes, the sarcastic twist of his mouth as if he isn't at all surprised. The beads strung along his tail give a healthy chime. They shiver and tremble: the bell-toll's last call tickling at the back of the feed.] Eh - that's a shame. I thought we could do this peacefully.
[The former homunculus flicks his tongue. What follows is a rattle - like that of a serpent giving its final warning and with it, the head of the laptop returns with one more, industrialized whine.]
Suit yourself.
no subject
I have always been a human. I was born a human and I will die a human. [ Like with Greed, even with only his voice, one can see the expression he has. The smile slips away as he stares at the screen in front of him. Even the rattling of the chair due to his violent swaying back and forth ceases. His eyes fixate on what is in front of him and is the key of what has driven him to wish for Dante's death. Something cold twists around his words, freezing them. ]
I may be wrong about a lot of things, but an insult like that cannot be forgiven. [ It breaks the chill of the words. Something melting and warming. His singing words return with a manic smile. The rattling of the chair picks up. Thump. Thump. It almost acts like a beat to the song that his words take. ] Yes, it is what is everything is about. I'm equally upset that we cannot do this peacefully, Greed. I think that you're an exceptional person. I never wanted to do anything to you.
[ A moment of silence. Spit can almost be heard hitting the screen as he starts to laugh. The chair snaps back and forth now as he rocks violently in it. ] No, not true. But you could tell the lie already, couldn't you? It was just a second... I wondered about how much your avarice was, but it seems it is only that much, hm? Only that much? So I love you with my entire heart. [ His giggles hiss through his teeth as he turns his head to choke out his laughter. ] You may think that is a lie, but it is not.
When I kill you... I'll keep your head. Please, tell me what your favorite meal is. [ It is what he asked Jotaro, isn't it? Yes, it is. This, too, is a willingness to show his respect. ] I'll cook it for you every day. I'll feed your head and even clean up after the mess that falls through your throat. [ The hyena laughter picks up to a higher-pitch. ] It wouldn't be good to leave you messy, right? I'm not that cruel, Greed.
But ... that is that is that, isn't it?
no subject
Never wanted to do anything to me? That's a little rich - [Tight, seething. Greed unwinds his fingers from the cover of the laptop, resulting in a harsh scritch of staggering plastic. The hooks of his nails drag on his side of the line. They skitter atop the lid; tuning the surface like that of cat claws sprung into an unsuspecting slab of wood. Even if the initial threat wasn't intended for him, the end's still the same.]
[Bite him once, shame on him. Bite him twice, however - ]
[The Sin's smile widens and on the recording, something brittle snaps out of place. A lonely crunch.] That much? Ha - ! Just who the hell do you think you're talking to? [While it's hard to make out, a distinct sizzling makes its way onto the receiver. It's far off, light: like that of a candle's end left to burn itself out in a pool of molten wax. The former homunculus gives his tail a lazy flit.] Sorry, but if you think that's all, you really don't know me very well. [His voice drops, then. A baritone pitch, the note of it low and broiling at the back of his jaws. Greed's mouth opens and as cool air meets his heat, a tinny trill tests against the feed.]
[Distant, yet still so dangerously, dangerously, close.]
Will you now. [He hums. The last of the device falls out of his grip. Like the other's voice, it cracks across the receiver - almost meeting it in some kind of shattered, dissonant harmony. Greed puckers his lip. A beat of thick silence is what follows. Throttles of pungent air choke the receiver. It falls weighted along the line -the taste thick, humid; a house fire's drawling crackle.] That's really too bad.
[Another piece of plastic pops. What it is, what it could be - Greed doesn't pay it much mind. Instead, he mindlessly traps it under the crook of his nail and it's there that it fissures. Creating a sound akin Styrofoam melting atop a hot-cranked oven.] Y'know, it's always better to take my offer, but I guess I couldn't talk you out of it, could I. [Rhetorical, of course. Mitsuhide's mind is a minefield laced in hornet's nest. Usually, the Sin would merely forgive and forget: his odd habits, his childish demeanor trying to balance reason with insanity. But there's a line: a distinct one.]
[And it only took the Wendigo seconds to cross it.]
[The former homunculus rolls his tongue along the roof of his mouth. He's forgotten about the shard of plastic during the conversation and while it quickly melts beneath his finger, the receiver picks up its dying gasps: the lengthy crinkle and shallow ploop bringing its demise to a final end.]
Have it your way.